Close to My Heart
by FyreBrande
Summary: Alistair & some dialogue do not belong to me, they belong to BioWare Unfortunately .I'm not trying to steal them much as I would love to steal him . I tried to keep this non-PCspecific, but it only works to a certain point. Okay, shutting up now. Enjoy!


Okay first attempt at anything other than KotOR, so here's hoping it's not too horrible. Please read and review...

~~Close to My Heart~~

_"Here, look at this. Do you know what this is?" He handed her the small, slightly bruised rose._

_She grinned impishly at him. "Your new weapon of choice?"_

_He laughed and played along. "Yes, that's right! Watch as I thrash our enemies with the mighty power of floral arrangements! Feel my thorns, darkspawn! I will overpower you with my rosy scent! Or, you know, it could just be a rose. I know it's pretty dull by comparison," he said almost apologetically._

_She smiled knowingly. "Sentiment can be a pretty potent weapon."_

_"Is it that easy to see right through me? I guess I shouldn't be surprised." He chuckled, his stomach tied in knots by the nerves._

_Her smile softened. "You've been thumbing that flower for a while now."_

_He nodded."I picked it in Lothering. I remember thinking 'How could something so beautiful exist in a place full of so much despair and ugliness?' I probably should have left it alone, but I couldn't. The darkspawn would come, and their taint would just destroy it." He shrugged. "So I've had it ever since."_

_"And what do you intend to do with it?" she inquired playfully, already guessing the answer, knowing there was only one reason he would have held on to it for so long._

_He forced down the raging desire to just run away before he made an even bigger fool of himself. If he didn't say this now, he never would get up the nerve again. "I thought that I might... give it to you actually," he admitted hesitantly. "In a lot of ways, I think the same thing when I look at you."_

_She actually blushed. "Thank you, Alistair. That's a lovely thought." _

_Relief coursed through him. Relief she hadn't laughed, relief she accepted the gift, relief at the realization she was just as nervous as he was. "I'm glad you like it. I was just thinking, here I am doing all this complaining, and you haven't exactly been having a good time of it yourself. You've had none of the good experiences of being a Warden since your Joining. Not a word of thanks or congratulations. It's all been death and fighting and tragedy. I thought maybe I could say something. Tell you what a rare and wonderful thing you are to find amidst all this...darkness."_

_The impish grin returned, masking her own blush almost perfectly as she teased, "So, are we married now?"_

_"Ha! You won't land me that easily, woman. I know I'm quite the prize, after all. No need to start crying on me or anything. I guess it was just a stupid impulse. I dunno, was it the wrong one?" He couldn't keep the trepidation out of his voice._

_She shook her head, still smiling. "No, it wasn't. Thank you, Alistair."_

_He couldn't help but smile back. "I'm glad you like it. Now, if we could move right on past this awkward embarrassing stage and get right to the steamy bits I'd appreciate it."_

_Her eyes sparkled, knowledge he wasn't serious showing as she shot back, "Sounds good. Off with the armor, then."_

_He laughed, feeling the heat rise in his face. "Bluff called! Damn! She saw right through me!"_

_"You're so cute when you're bashful." The look in her eyes... Oh, Maker, if he stared at her a few seconds longer it might not be a bluff._

_"I'll be.." He laughed nervously. "I'll be standing over here until the blushing stops. Just to be, uh, safe. You know how it is." _

* * *

The memory woke him from an otherwise dreamless sleep. He couldn't help but smile as he remembered the way she had almost immediately used the rose to decorate her otherwise plain dark bun. And how she had blushed self-consciously upon showing him the pendant she had one of the mages at the Circle tower make, a few fallen blood red petals fanned out inside the crystal. She'd slipped the chain over her head and down inside her armor with a whisper about it staying close to her heart. And it had, through all their adventures.

A glance out the window showed stars and a waning moon. Alistair sighed as he shifted position and tried to go back to sleep. After nearly ten minutes of trying, he gave up, mumbling as he slid out of bed. His wife moaned softly in her sleep, and he froze, one hand halfway to the discarded clothes of the day before. No need for her to share his insomnia. He waited, practically holding his breath, until she stilled. He dressed as quickly as he dared. He opened and closed the door almost silently, grabbing a cloak from one of the wall hooks as he passed. Hopefully it would shield him from both the night chill and the eyes of anyone awake at this hour.

Alistair didn't meet another soul, human or otherwise, until he was treading the cobblestones of the courtyard. The guard's challenge of "Who goes there?" turned to a respectful salute when he recognized the hooded man emerging from the doorway. "Evening to you, ser."

"Evening," Alistair replied absent-mindedly, his thoughts elsewhere. She should be here with him... No, he needed to be alone right now, tempting as the thought of _her_ was. Another memory separated itself from the rest of the swirling vortex in his mind and forced him to relive it. He didn't fight very hard. It _was_ one of his favorites...

* * *

_"So, all this time we've spent together, y'know, the tragedy, the brushes with death, the constant battle with the whole Blight looming over us, will you miss it once it's over?" he asked._

_Like always, she saw right through him. "Miss the constant battle? Or miss you?" _

_Kicking himself for not being more direct, he hesitantly made his confession."I know it might sound strange, considering we haven't known each other for very long, but I've come to...care for you a great deal. I think maybe it's because we've gone through so much together. I don't know. Or maybe I'm imagining it. Or maybe I'm just fooling myself. Am I? Fooling myself? Or do you think you might ever...feel the same way about me?" He hoped and prayed to the Maker if she didn't feel anything for him she would at least be kind about telling him. _What do you think she is, idiot? You know she would never be anything _but_ kind, _his brain screamed at him._

_"I think I already do." Her voice was so soft he almost didn't catch her reply._

_If his heart didn't burst from the sheer elation, it would be a miracle straight from the hand of Andraste Herself. "So I fooled you, did I?" he chuckled. "Good to know." He pulled her close and kissed her, caving to what his heart had been longing to do since Lothering. His mind caught up with the rest of him, and he was suddenly very worried he'd rushed things too much. All she'd done was admit she cared for him. What if she wasn't ready? What if she had wanted to take it slower? "That...that wasn't too soon, was it?"_

_One eyebrow quirked upward as she shot him that now-familiar impish grin. "I don't know. I'll need more testing to be sure," she teased._

_Relieved beyond description, he replied, with a grin of his own, "Well, I'll have to arrange that then, won't I?" His glibness melted away as he really _looked_ at her, really took in the dark hair--still decorated by the rose, the deep blue eyes, her clan tattoos. "Maker's breath, but you're beautiful." The words came out in little more than an awed whisper and made her blush furiously. "I am a lucky man. Now," He cleared his throat of the emotion clogging it, "Let's get back to...what we were up to before, lest I forget why we're here."_

* * *

Alistair shook his head and wished for the days when all that mattered was her and stopping the Blight. The days when a certain beautiful someone could monopolize his time every night with no more consequence then a leering grin from Zevran or disapproving glare from Morrigan the next day. The days before, knowing exactly what she was doing, the woman he loved put him in an impossible position by crowning him King.

The realization that, as king, he would have to marry a _human_ noblewoman to "produce an heir" had ripped a gaping wound open in his heart. Remembering the moment that became clear to him hurt even now.

"Why did you do it?" he whispered to the night sky. He knew the answer, though. She was putting duty before love. Something in their long talks by the campfire, even if he had no idea _what _exactly, had convinced her that he would be a good king. She had done her duty, knowing what that meant. Knowing what she would have to sacrifice.

That had been, without a doubt, the most heart-wrenchingly difficult decision of his life. The echo of that damned conversation rang hollowly in his ears even now, some part louder than others.

* * *

_" I love you. More than I ever thought possible, but I have to face what this means. I can't run away from it anymore...I could see it becoming very hard to tear myself away from you. Impossible, even. If this is what must be, then I have to do it now. I'm sorry."_

_"Is this revenge for my making you king?"_

_"No, of course not. I said I understand why you did what you did and I do. But I cannot avoid what that entails."_

_"I think you'll be a good king."_

_"But I'd gladly trade all those things for what I really want."_

* * *

It had almost made it harder that she hadn't protested. That she had simply commented on her confidence in him, rather than sob and beg him not to leave her. The pain that filled her eyes as she told him she thought he would be a good king was more than he could bear. He wasn't as strong as her, he'd known that for a long time. She been torn from everything familiar, forced to kill her best friend when he was twisted by the taint, gracefully surrendered her true love to the arms of another, and still she pressed on, determined to defeat the Blight.

Alistair raked his fingers through his hair and groaned as one solitary image floated forward to detail that moment. After leaving, he had turned back for one second, and glimpsed her through the warped panels of the door.

It would haunt him forever. She had collapsed to her knees, the strong woman he knew and loved replaced with a broken girl, one hand pulling the wilted rose from her hair to clutch to her heart, the other pressed against her face as Leliana and Wynne moved to comfort her. That was the only time he had ever seen her cry.

He blamed himself for her decision. If he had fought harder, told the nobles a king could marry who he wished, maybe she wouldn't have done it.

Alistair crossed to the middle of the courtyard and leaned against the monument erected in honor of those who perished fighting the Blight, purposefully staring at the ground rather than the inscription that dominated the sides. He knew what it said. He knew which name was etched larger than the others.

He wished he had done _something _to stop her. Had he known her intentions when she chose Sten rather than him for the final battle with the archdemon, he never would have let her go through with it. She didn't deserve to die.

Her face had been much more grim than usual as she picked the companions for her last battle, her hair glaringly absent one bruised rose, but she had seemed very much at peace. He, of course, hadn't known why until Sten had returned carrying her lifeless body, her pale face and silver armor covered in dark blood, the pendant with the rose petals hanging cracked and chipped on her breastplate, followed by Wynne, who filled him in on the sacrifice made by the woman he loved.

He hadn't been able to show the full depth of his pain. As king, he could express sorrow at the death of _a_ hero, but not the tremendous grief rending huge wounds inside him at the loss of _his_ hero.

He looked up at the life sized figure atop the monument. Carved in a likeness of the Hero of Ferelden, the statue showed her with her two swords slung on her back, bow in hand, pointing halfway between the ground and straight ahead. It had been a common stance for her. She was death incarnate with those twin curved swords, but her bow was, in keeping with her heritage, her favored weapon.

"I miss you, my love," he whispered to the stone figure. "I still blame myself. I was such an idiot. I..." His voice trailed off. He wasn't sure exactly what he wanted to say.

"I feel like I killed you"?

"I wish I could do it over again"?

"I wish I had been there to die instead of you"?

He knew what she would say to all of those thoughts. He hadn't killed her, doing it over again would lead to the same result because she did _not_ want to just be his mistress, and if he had died after all she went through to put him on the throne she would probably bring him back to life somehow just so she could kill him again herself. That didn't make her death hurt any less.

Alistair sighed heavily. This couldn't be good for him. He was going to regret the way things ended between the two of them his whole life, there was no way around that. But, at the same time, he was so proud of her. So honored to have known her, fought beside her...and loved her.

Casting one last look up at the Hero's Statue, the king of Ferelden headed back inside the palace. Back to his wife. As he crossed the courtyard, the moonlight caught a crack in the crystal pendant that hung around his neck, illuminating the rose petals suspended in the same place as always.

Close to his heart.

* * *

I know, I know, it's sad....but when a story screams to be written and won't shut up until you cave in, what's a girl to do?? And if Alistair is OOC please please let me know! He deserves sooo much better....


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